Make It Out Alive
by shirleypositive72
Summary: Jane's view of "Point of No Return" S5E18. Dean is determined to leave her again, Adam is determined to take his sacrificial place, Sam and Jane struggle to hang on to them both. Number 7 in the Jane series. Here there be angst.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Guess who's back?! Jane and I hope we're still welcome. We've missed you.**

I'm so angry at him. I'm so damn mad and hurt and disappointed that I can't say a word to him, can't respond to anything he asks. But I can't breathe without him, either, so I sit as close as I can get, I hold his hand, I make sure our thighs touch on the same couch cushion, I sit curled under his always protective arm even as the anger bubbles red under my skin.

He tried to leave me. Again. He made a plan to remove himself from my life, and that is a thing for which I am having a hard time finding forgiveness. Love? Oh, yes, in great big heaping doses. Forgiveness? No, not yet. Not even close.

He wants to say yes to Michael. The fact that he's trying to save the world means exactly shit to me. I'm still pissed.

Sammy and I found him standing in a boring motel room, packing his most precious possessions into a cardboard box. His dad's leather jacket, Baby's keys, his gun. All extensions of himself, emblems of who he is. There's a letter to me in that box, too, that I will never read. He was drinking what I can only guess he believed to be his last whiskey when Sam walked through the door.

Dean was cruel to him in the same way young boys in movies try to set wild animals free. Be mean and he'll go away, let you leave. He threw out Sam's habit of running away, he brought up past mistakes, but it didn't work.

"You know I have to stop you," Sam told him.

His brother answered with the weapon he'd been saving for a desperate last blow. "Yeah, well, you can try. Just remember you're not all hopped up on demon blood this time."

I think Sam knew that was coming, and he had a good answer. "Yeah, I know. But I brought help," was his calm reply.

I don't know why Dean thought I wouldn't be there. I don't know what made him think I wouldn't tear down the highway searching for him. I'd just helped him silence the False Prophet, we'd stood up to archangels together, I'd followed him into the afterlife, I'd remained hot for him when he was turned into a horny old geezer, I was willing to stand by his side to face down the devil, and he somehow let himself be convinced that I would not walk through that door.

"If you wanted to break up, all you had to do was say so."

"Jane, you shouldn't be here." He wouldn't even look at me.

"Where else should I be? At Bobby's, grieving for you again? You think I'd survive that this time?"

He glanced up at that, maybe seeing in my face the memory of utter devastation. I collapsed, imploded, disappeared when he had been dragged to hell not so very long ago. I died in all but body and only the sound of his voice brought me back. How dare he do that to me again. I hope he saw it. I hope it hurt him. But I don't know what he felt; I haven't talked to him to ask.

"I have to do this. I have no choice," he continued, convincing no one but himself.

"Neither do we," I whisper, then nod behind me to Cas. Our pissed off angel appeared next to Dean, touched his forehead, and we brought our unconscious rebel back home.

And here I sit, next to the reason my heart beats, so angry at him that I cannot speak. Gripping his hand tighter, I feel him return the pressure, holding on to me even as he tries to convince us all that the only future we face is one without him. He's so stupid. He's so selfish, and selfless, and fucked up. But I won't let go.

 **A/N: So... Any good?**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I'm not the only one dealing with anger issues at the moment. Dean can't contain it anymore and lets go of my hand to launch himself to his feet. Bobby and Sam are trying to convince him that we can find another way. Dean disagrees.

Pacing helps, I guess.

"Yeah, no, this is good. Really. You know, eight months of turned pages and screwed pooches but tonight, tonight's when the magic happens." He's almost manic, so desperate to have us, have himself, believe in his choice.

"You ain't helpin'," Bobby snaps.

"Yeah, well, why don't you let me get out of your hair, then?"

I can't stand it anymore, either. I finally speak to him. "Surrender is never an option for you, Dean. You don't give up! After all we've been through . . . Why? What the hell happened to you?"

"Reality happened, Jay. Nuclear's the only option we have left. Michael can ice the devil, save a boatload of people."

Bobby tags back in, switches gears, tries to appeal to Dean's massive savior complex. "But not _all_ of them. We gotta think of something else."

That tactic doesn't work either.

"Yeah, well, that's easy for you to say. But if Lucifer burns this mother down, and I could have done something about it, guess what? That's on me."

"You can't give up, son."

"You're not my father. And you ain't in my shoes."

There is a silence after this ridiculous, wounding, over the line statement. Dean is realizing what he said, but not taking it back. Sam is shocked by the meanness of it. I am more disappointed in Dean than I have ever, ever been. And angrier at him than I ever thought possible. Bobby sits frozen in his chair, a blank look in his eyes.

I'm on my feet and in Dean's face before I realize I've moved. So close to him that I can feel the heat of his skin, hear the fabric of his shirt move as breath makes his lungs rise and fall. This nearness doesn't raise the normal flush to my face, the accustomed excitemet that the smell of him brings. My pulse is quickened for entirely different reasons today.

Sam has a hand on my shoulder. I must look like I'm going to hit him. I might. I want to. I want to punish him for the pain he just caused. I want to smack that defiant look from his face. I want to knock some sense into him. I want to wake his dumb ass up. But I can't because I love him, even if I hate him right now, too.

With our angry faces directed at each other, neither the boys nor I notice Bobby move until we hear his desk drawer slam.

There's a gun in front of him. The one he keeps here in the library desk. I have just enough time to wonder which of us idjits he's going to pop in the foot to get us to behave like our normal selves before he takes a bullet out of his shirt pocket. He just looks at it. So do we.

"What is that?" Dean is concerned now. Pisses me off, but I have to agree.

"That's the round that I mean to put through my skull," Bobby expalins so very calmly. He sets the bullet down in front of him and directs his gaze at Dean. "Every morning, I look at it. I think, "Maybe today's the day I flip the lights out." But I don't do it. I _never_ do it. You know why? Because I promised _you_ I wouldn't give up!"

And this, though it breaks my heart, is Bobby's last plea to make Dean see reason. To make him remember who he is and what he stands for. Who he stands up for. To remind him how very much we need him.

This latest ploy is not given the chance to work. Cas's sounds of pain distract us all too quickly. I've seen him react this way before, hunched over, hands to his head. Angel radio is screeching.

"Cas, you okay?" Sam asks worriedly.

"No," our angel deadpans.

"What's wrong?" I ask. Moving toward him. I can't help him, but I can offer comfort, I guess.

"Something's happening," he explains, vague as ever.

"Where?" I ask. But no answer.

Cas is gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

We never know where Cas is going or when he'll be back when he disappears like this. We don't know if he's in danger and needs our help, or if the angels have personal, private shit going on that we can't be a part of. He didn't look good when he popped out of Bobby's library, but we won't know until he returns.

And I can't be in this room with Dean, or Bobby, or that bullet while we wait.

Sam follows me into the kitchen, and my best friend and I dive back into the books we've left on the table. More open books than greasy car parts around here these days. Searching for clues, researching them when we find one, anything to stave off impending doom. Dean was right about one thing - we have nothing. We have found exactly zero solutions. I slump in my chair, shoulders hunched, hair in my face. Sam reads and paces, eventually leaning on the fridge just to still himself.

Dean walks in straight to the fridge, of course, saying nothing to me, still obviously defensive. "I'm gonna get a beer. Do you mind?"

Sam moves out of his brother's way, and I huff out a humorless laugh.

"What is it now, Jane? I can't have a beer?"

"No, no, by all means, try to drink it away, Dean. Have a beer. Hell, have six. Let me know if it makes you feel any better about what you said to that man in there."

"He knows I didn't mean anything by that. Don't be such a bitch," he says, raising his voice.

"Don't be such a dick," I reply just as loud.

"Hey," Sam barks, getting between us. "Watch it," he tells Dean.

"Let him talk, Sam. He can be an ungrateful asshole to Bobby. He can call me whatever he wants," I say as I stand and pull my hair back into a messy bun with one of my ever-present hair ties. It's what I do just before a fight, and they both know it. It's not like we've never had shouting matches before; it's not the first time he's called me a bitch. It happens. Whatever. But right now I'm pissed and ready to have it out. "He can say all of the mean and stupid shit he wants to right now. He's not sticking around to deal with the fallout. Isn't that right, Dean? Leaving again."

"The hell do you mean _again_?" he asks around Sam's shoulder.

I unleash the universally recognized and feared angry woman laugh, and Sam steps away, but not too far away. Dean is still but looking me in the eye. I think he's been waiting for me to reach the boiling point. I don't think he expected quite what that would look like. All my fears and resentments spilling out onto the kitchen floor.

"You have _always_ left me! I was always left behind! And I'm not talking about when I was a kid," I cut him off when he opens his mouth. The way he immediately stops whatever he was going to say proves I anticipaed his argument well. "I mean all the roadtrips, all the hunts. When you were with Uncle John, or alone, or with Sam. All the times we argued and you waked out to find a bar. All the times it was too dangerous or too far away or you just needed a little space."

"I never asked for space, Jay. Not once."

"I knew when you needed it, Dean. You didn't _have_ to ask. That's the difference between us, you see. I put you first." A stray tear threatens to fall and he steps closer, simply unable, even now, to watch me cry. But I am not ready to be comforted.

"And HELL," I shout, just yelling at him all the things I've thought for so long but would never allow myself to say out loud to anyone. I'm not sure I ever admitted it all to myself. "You made a deal, and left me again, and went to fucking hell, Dean!"

He closes the gap and puts his hands on my shoulders, making the physical connection we both count on to keep us steady, grounded. "I had to do that. Jay. You know that. You knew it then. I needed to bring back Sam! I had to - " No. I shrug him off, reaching up and grabbing his flannel shirt in both fists.

"You left me! You left me behind, and didn't give a damn what it did to me! You left me here without you, to rot in misery. I've never left you behind. I never ran! Not once!"

I start to hit him as he tries to speak, pushing him away, my palms pounding his chest, coming to a stop over the anti-possession tattoo I know is hiding under the layers of shirts. I just rest it there, feeling him, touching him, savoring his presense like there's little time left. Because there is so little time left.

"I never ran," I say once more, softly, quietly, letting the words sink in, giving up on the anger that is eating me alive. "You have always run, Dean. You always had a reason, a purpose I couldn't argue against, but you ran. You've always come back, but I've just never been important enough to keep you from leaving, I guess." I shudder a breath, shake off the rising sobs. " I never left you, no matter what. I didn't think you'd do it to me again."


End file.
